


High-Maintenance

by buttery_bee_27



Series: Draco and Harry Kink Party [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Sex, BDSM, Blow Jobs, Body Positivity, Bondage, Bottom Harry Potter, CMNM, Choking, Cock Warming, Cockwarming, Collars, Consensual Kink, Consensual Sex, Consent, Creampie, Cunnilingus, Degradation, Discipline, Dom Draco Malfoy, Dom/sub, Domestic, Drarry, Enthusiastic Consent, Established Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Established Relationship, Explicit Consent, Face-Fucking, Fuck JKR, Gay, Gay Sex, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Hickeys, Humiliation, Kissing, Leashes, M/M, Masochism, Muggle Technology, Oral Sex, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Porn, Possessive Sex, Praise Kink, Rough Kissing, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Sex, Sex Toys, Shameless Smut, Smut, Sub Harry Potter, Sweet, Top Draco Malfoy, Trans Character, Trans Harry Potter, Trans Male Character, Use of "Cunt", Vaginal Sex, Very Minor (Consensual) Gaslighting, domesticity kink, manipulation kink, small penis humiliation, sph
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-13
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-17 14:15:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28726458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buttery_bee_27/pseuds/buttery_bee_27
Summary: In which Harry is desperate, Draco is cocky and hot, and there are a few loose threads of domesticity and love that peek through the blanket of BDSM and smut. Literally just 11,800 words of sex.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Series: Draco and Harry Kink Party [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2105925
Comments: 20
Kudos: 279





	High-Maintenance

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! 
> 
> A few things to warn about: so obviously, read the tags. Those tell a lot. But also: Harry is trans, and does not currently experience dysphoria. He has in the past, but very rarely does now. He has had top surgery. He calls his genitalia "cunt" and dick/cock, but with the (consensual) small penis humiliation, it's sometimes referred to as a clit. I wanted to warn of this ahead of time in case it may trigger any of my fellow transfolk.
> 
> I do not condone anything JKR has ever said because she's a terrible person. And I was already going to write this, but it brings me joy to know that I'm publishing it here and pissing her off. I don't own Harry Potter, but the fandom has already reclaimed it and thrown her out with the old mulch, so I might as well. 
> 
> If you read this and want me to tag trigger warnings for anything else, PLEASE let me know! Hopefully I've documented all of them.
> 
> Also any errors are mine and mine alone, I apologize if you happen to find any. :)
> 
> I hope you enjoy this work, and yes, I plan to write more of them!

_ It’s getting all between my legs, isn’t it?  _ he thought.

Harry was curled on his side next to Draco, naked, the smooth metal of the leash’s chain cold against his skin. The leash, clipped to a leather collar around Harry’s neck, stretched to the nearest bedpost. Draco was sitting up, propped on pillows against the headboard, his legs outstretched and an open book in his lap — some Muggle author ( _ Darles Chickens? _ Harry thought.  _ What a dumb name. _ ) that Draco had been interested in of late. He was close enough that Harry could feel the heat of his skin, even through the thick fabric of Draco’s trousers.

Harry shivered, and Draco reached over absently to run his fingers through Harry’s hair, though he didn’t take his eyes off his novel. Harry felt Draco’s nails gently scratch his scalp, and then the tickling feeling of his hand moving down, tracing along his bare spine. Harry could sense the hand between his legs, and he let out a soft, shaky gasp when Draco’s fingers found the opening of his cunt. It was hot and dripping, Draco’s fingertips cool against it, but he did no more than touch momentarily before pulling away.

Harry heard Draco  _ tsk  _ quietly, and he closed his eyes and tried to steady his breathing. The shame coursed through him and it took everything not to whine and beg Draco for something more.

“ _ So _ wet,” Draco said, finally turning his head, his eyes catching on the slickness that coated Harry’s upper inner thighs. “Look at you, you’ve dripped all over yourself.”

Harry couldn’t help the sound he made in the back of his throat, and he whimpered when Draco’s wet fingers found his mouth. He stuck out his tongue and cleaned them.

“Good boy,” he heard Draco murmur, and Harry let himself break into a soft, pleased smile, but his eyes remained shut. “I’ve still got two pages in this chapter, I’ll be done soon. You’re doing so well.”

Harry smiled again, and he nuzzled closer, into the warmth of Draco’s thigh. The cloth was rough against him, but not uncomfortably so, and he let Draco run his fingers along his collar while he read. Harry knew that it was a conscious gesture, that Draco  _ did it _ to get him worked up, but the perceived thoughtlessness (he was  _ reading _ , for Merlin’s sake!) of it turned him on all the same. His breath caught as Draco’s fingers found and fiddled with the little ring that connected Harry’s collar to his leash. 

He let his mind drift further, and he could think of nothing more than their current states: his nakedness, vulnerability, desperation; Draco’s arousal, though completely hidden, and his domineering demeanor. Harry thought of how Draco was reading something for a book club that he and Hermione had started together. He thought of how he might as well not be there at all — he was allowed to neither speak nor move, and he was only there for Draco’s amusement. They did this on occasion: Draco busy responding to owls or finalizing an abstract or something of the sort, with Harry nearby, on display, just a pet. Sometimes Harry would be under a desk with Draco’s cock in his mouth while the latter worked. Sometimes he’d be curled on Draco’s lap, forced to sit still and ignore the cock filling him, while Draco read the news or even, on occasion, spoke on his mobile with a friend or colleague. 

Harry’s mind wandered to the first such incident, a few months ago. They’d been on the sofa. He had been straddling Draco, facing him with his head tucked into Draco’s shoulder. Draco had been fully clothed, save for his trousers undone, and Harry had been bottomless on his lap, desperately trying to stay silent while he sat with Draco’s cock inside his cunt. Draco had been scrolling on his mobile when Hermione had called him, and Draco had laid a controlling hand on the small of Harry’s back before picking up. 

Harry could hear Hermione’s words on the other side, given his proximity to the phone, and it was something to do with that book club that she and Draco were planning. Nothing interesting. Draco had spoken nonchalantly, casually, not remotely like he had his cock buried in his dripping-wet boyfriend, and it’d turned Harry on more than he had even imagined it could. He’d started when he heard Hermione ask about him, ask to talk to him about Marchbanks’s fundraiser the following fortnight, and he had to wait no longer than a second before Draco, without missing a beat, responded.  _ He’s busy _ , Draco had said.  _ Something terribly important that I don’t care about. _ He’d chuckled, and Hermione’s laugh had been audible from where Harry sat.  _ Thank Merlin he does all the tedious stuff so we don’t have to. _ Hermione had readily agreed. The implications in Draco’s words had hung heavily in the air. After hanging up a moment later, Draco had bitten Harry’s neck and told him what a good slut he was for staying still and quiet while he was talking to Hermione. Harry had moaned and whimpered and pleaded until Draco pushed him back and fucked him until his vision blurred.

He realized that he was whimpering softly. Draco, apparently, was finished with his reading, because Harry could hear him set it aside and reach for something new. He couldn’t see what it was, but he didn't dare move or inquire. The bed shifted as Draco turned towards him, and it took a lot of strength to keep himself from moving to face him.

“You’ve been so good, baby,” Draco whispered. “Here’s a treat for now. If you stay good, I’ll let you suck my cock later.”

Harry couldn’t help the whine he made at those words; he  _ loved _ sucking someone off, and even much more so when it was Draco. His mouth watered.

“Shh, baby, maybe in a bit,” Draco said, and he pushed something against Harry’s cunt and slipped it inside him. Harry inhaled sharply, and he realized when Draco’s fingers let go that it was a vibrator, small and egg-shaped and—  _ oh, fuck _ , Harry thought, when Draco whispered something and it began to thrum inside him.

He was already soaked, and this would have him dripping even more. Harry couldn’t help but shift, arching his back and trying to shift the vibrations inside him — the toy touched his G-spot inconsistently, and the lack of pressure was torture. He was still curled up, on his side, and the position left him with frustratingly little leverage. He groaned. It wasn’t enough.

Harry felt fingers tug at his hair. “Hush,” Draco says, a bit sternly. “You’re to stay still for a few minutes more. I told Molly I’d do some reading about which wood is best for new enchanted cutting boards; it will only take a short time.”

Harry barely heard the words Draco said, so he whimpered again when he felt Draco stand up. 

“It’s okay, baby, I’ll be right back. I just need to find a book.”

He couldn’t think. He couldn’t. There was this incessant vibration inside him, and it was so close to where he wanted it, but one movement and Draco wouldn’t let him cum for two days.

Harry forced himself to think about something innocent, like the project Draco was working on for Mrs. Weasley — researching woods’ magical properties to find which ones are best for usage in cooking — and it helped for a minute, until he heard Draco walk back into the room. 

Harry realized that his cunt had been rhythmically clenching without his realizing it. He bit down on his tongue, but he could hear his shaky breathing, too loud in the quiet room. He focused on the five, four, three, two, one strategy that Draco taught him, for keeping himself grounded in stressful situations — five things he could see. That was easy. The wall, with its light taupe paint and a few shadows cast from the curtains. The curtains themselves, translucent and maroon and pretty. Harry had picked them out. The nightstand: mahogany and ornate, apparently having belonged to Draco’s mother. The odd lamp that sat upon it, a present from Luna. And one of the many books that Harry was currently reading, also atop the nightstand. 

As Draco sat back on the bed, the mattress dipped, and Harry had to try  _ so hard _ to sit still. 

_ Now for the four, _ Harry told himself, trying to not make any noise as he felt himself get wetter.  _ Four things I can feel _ . The duvet. The vibrator,  _ damnit _ . The collar. Draco’s trousers, rough against his shoulder. 

He could feel the aching in his cunt, too.

_ Three things I can hear. _ The buzzing of the vibrator was the first thing that came to mind, though muffled since it was inside him, and he tried to focus on noises beyond his being. The scritch-scritching of Draco’s self-inking quill as he jotted notes in the margins. And the neighbor’s crup puppies yapping in the adjacent garden, not even old enough to have a single tail. 

Harry took his time and tried to focus on each of these so as to distract himself, and he’d barely gotten to the two things he could smell when he heard Draco close the book and set it down.

Draco turned towards him, and Harry couldn’t see him, but he felt the movement against his bare back. He felt Draco rest a hand on his hip, possessive, and couldn’t hold back his whimper.

“What is it, Harry?”

He didn’t know if he could form words. He said nothing, so embarrassed of how desperate his ragged breathing made him seem.

“Hm?”

Fucking hell, he loved when Draco did that. Little condescending comments, questions, little things he did to tease Harry, knowing all the while how embarrassing Harry found it all.

“Please touch my dick,” Harry choked out, painfully aware of how despondent he sounded.

“What was that?” Draco prompted. What a sadist.

Harry groaned.

“Say it.”

“Please,” he said, more clearly this time, “please touch my dick.”

“Why should I?”

Harry made a sound in the back of his throat, and Draco’s hand slid down between Harry’s legs, fingers gently rubbing the outside of his cunt.

“It doesn’t do anything for me,” Draco continued, and Harry was  _ so turned on _ that he thought he’d lose his mind. “So what’s the point of me touching it? What’s the point of such a tiny, useless little cock?”

Harry groaned again, turning to bury his face further in the bed. 

“What was that? Good boys speak up.”

Harry swallowed hard and gathered his words. It took longer than it should. “No point,” he whispered. 

“That’s right,” Draco murmured appraisingly. He was rubbing at the spaces between Harry’s labia, a bit higher than and to the sides of his opening (“the U-spot”, he’d heard it called). It felt good, but it wouldn’t be nearly enough to get him to cum — just enough to make him even more desperate to be used. More desperate to please Draco. And the pressure there made him harder too — not that it was easy to tell, since his dick seldom reached more than an inch and a quarter in length. “You couldn’t make me feel good with that tiny thing. You couldn’t fuck me if you  _ wanted  _ to.”

Harry choked out another whimper and tried to push back against Draco’s touch. 

“Of course,” Draco added, “you probably couldn’t even top if you had a real dick.”  _ A real dick _ . Because Harry’s was a small, useless clit. “You’re too desperate to be filled up and used. You need someone else in control, baby. My cute little whore.”

Harry was long past the point of even wanting to argue — if this patronage had been towards the beginning of their play (which, on occasion, it was), he would have retorted, saying he very much  _ could _ top Draco if he so desired, even dom him if the situation called for it. Of course, this sort of talk usually ended with Draco fingering Harry until he begged to be fucked, and occasionally with Harry being left empty for the whole day as a punishment. Both of them enjoyed Harry’s brattier moods.

But now, all Harry wanted to do was go lax with servility and meet Draco’s every desire. He wanted to be praised and degraded in the same sentence. He felt Draco’s fingers, slick from touching him, tease along his crura and perineum, and he whimpered. Draco continued: “Aw, look at you, baby, you’re so sweet and pretty when you get needy like this. You’re lucky you have me to take care of you, otherwise you wouldn’t know what to do with yourself.” He found the loop from the vibrator and pulled it slowly out of Harry’s cunt, spelled it clean, and tossed it to the foot of the bed. 

Harry groaned and arched his spine, turning onto his back so he could see better. “Draco,” he whined, “please.” 

“Oh, the little slag doesn’t like when he’s empty?”

“No, sir.”

Draco flicked Harry’s dick, hard, and Harry yelped in surprise. He turned his head and dug his teeth into the duvet to keep from making more noise.

“Hard luck, baby,” Draco said. 

Harry said nothing, partially because he didn’t want to get in trouble, and partially for lack of anything  _ to _ say. He could feel Draco’s eyes on him. 

“Turn over. I want you to suck me off.”

Harry let out a hard breath, which he hadn’t even known he’d been holding, and rolled over, embarrassed when he made a small noise upon seeing Draco unbutton his trousers. He sat back on his heels.

Draco smirked, and Harry ducked his head when he saw how he was being looked at: like an object. Draco reached out and caressed Harry’s face for a moment before he reached for the bedpost and, from it, unlooped Harry’s leash. He wrapped it thrice around his palm, leaving a little over a foot of slack, and tugged Harry closer. 

Harry settled himself on his stomach between Draco’s legs, resentful that he had to wait for permission to start sucking. Draco’s cock was right in front of his face, and it was hard and flushed and  _ bloody perfect _ . Not too long, not too short. The perfect size to occupy Harry’s mouth, and the perfect size to feel inside him without discomfort. And it was right there, when Harry’s mouth was watering and ready and— 

“You look so fucking good,” Draco said. The sincerity in his voice was clear, but it gave way to pride, smugness, and apathy when he continued. “Now, c’mon, sweetie, get started. I know you can’t stand to wait  _ too  _ long.”

Harry shuddered, and, closing his eyes, leaned forward; he groaned when he felt Draco’s hand gently guide him onto his cock. Harry began on just the upper half of the shaft, hollowing his cheeks and letting his tongue wander to slicken up the cock in his mouth. He barely had to take extra care to cover his teeth: it was reflexive, at this point, with all the time he’d spent on his knees for Draco (and, only on a few rare occasions, other men. Draco wasn’t too fond of sharing). Harry began slowly bobbing his head, letting his saliva lubricate Draco’s cock, and he leaned further to take more into his mouth. He loved the sensations: the weight on his tongue, the subtle taste of pre-cum, and especially the way it pressed into his throat. He loved how, when his mouth was full like this, he felt as though he didn’t need to breathe. And, some of the time, he couldn’t. 

Suddenly, Draco’s palm found the back of Harry’s head, and Harry felt himself being forced lower. He tried to open his throat as Draco pushed deeper into his mouth, and this — wow,  _ this  _ — was the thing he loved. When his whole world was consumed by this. When his only purpose was to be used as his owner pleased. Fuck, it was good. Draco pushed him lower, and Harry had to fight his gag reflex; he heard Draco make a contented noise above him. Harry felt his face burning, knowing that Draco was watching him in this embarrassing state: flushed, eager, humiliated, and so,  _ so _ fucking turned on by it. He almost forgot how much he wanted something in his cunt. Almost.

Draco pulled his hair, dragging Harry off of his cock. Harry was panting, eyes shut tightly, and he could feel how wet his mouth was, hating that Draco could see how disheveled he looked. He made a miffed noise in the back of his throat.

“What,” Draco said casually, “you don’t want to stop?” And the way he said it made Harry want to fall to his knees for Draco and stay there forever.

Harry couldn’t shake his head, not with Draco’s firm grip on his hair, and he wasn’t sure if he had permission to speak.

“You look a  _ mess _ ,” Draco said, the smirk audible in his voice. “You want me to fuck your mouth this time?”

Harry groaned.  _ Please _ .

“Hm. I suppose I can oblige you.”

_ Arrogant bastard _ , Harry thought, without any bitterness, as Draco guided him down with a hand still in his hair. He felt pressure on his neck, and realized that he was being held in place both by Draco’s hand and the taut leash.  _ Fuck _ .

He felt Draco enter his mouth and had to stay still, unable to move if he wanted to. Held in place, Harry felt Draco begin to rock his hips slowly up from the mattress while simultaneously pulling Harry’s head down to meet him. His cock pushed slowly into Harry’s throat, and Harry tried his hardest to not gag. He couldn’t breathe, and it was  _ so good _ . Even when his cock was all the way in Harry’s mouth, Draco would push him down just a bit further, and he couldn’t help but choke. Draco would pay no notice, other than perhaps a small chuckle, and continue on, slowly picking up speed as he used Harry’s mouth. One of Harry’s hands was tight in the duvet, the other tight in the crease of Draco’s trousers, and he forced himself to relax, opening his throat and trying to untense his muscles. His eyelids relaxed, no longer tightly shut, but resting. He felt content. Not comfortable, no, not even a little, with his neck strained and Draco’s cock down his throat, but content — Draco knew what was best, Draco would use him and then Harry would get a reward, because Draco was so good and lovely and kind to him. He blearily came to the realization that Draco was relaxing his grip, letting Harry’s hair fall from his fingers, and he leaned back a bit. He was allowed a moment to catch his breath as he slowly mouthed at Draco’s cock, before Draco pulled the leash, holding him tightly in place. Harry felt Draco begin to move again, shallowly fucking up into his mouth, and he did his best to move his tongue in a way that would feel good for the man using him. He wanted to please his owner; the uncomfortably empty aching inside him was now second only to the desire to be servile.

He lost track of time after that, happy to just be gently used, but it couldn’t have been longer than five more minutes before Draco was guiding him off his cock and coaxing him to sit up.

Harry  _ knew  _ he was a mess again, his hair mussed and his lips a bit pinker than usual, but this time the part of his mind that cared was much quieter than the others. Draco looked him over for a moment, and then pressed gently on his shoulder.

Confused, Harry made to get up, thinking Draco wanted him elsewhere on the bed, but he was pulled back down by the leash. Not sure what to do, Harry followed along, and he found himself forced to crawl over one of Draco’s legs in order to keep from being asphyxiated. Their chests were now parallel, inches away from each other, and Harry felt quite exposed: he was still naked, while Draco remained fully clothed.

Draco kissed him. He was being held close, the leash in Draco’s fist, and he couldn’t back away if he wanted to. The feeling of being kissed — a common act between couples such as themselves — without affection was a strange one indeed; Harry knew that whatever Draco did was for himself, not intended to please Harry in any way, and if Draco wanted to kiss him, he would.

He felt Draco’s tongue in his mouth, and whined. He was straddling Draco’s thigh, yet he hovered over it, afraid of what punishment might ensue if he got any of his wetness on Draco’s trousers. This was already difficult enough, seeing as Harry was dripping a bit, and it coated his inner thighs. Torn between playing it safe and letting himself grind shamelessly against Draco’s leg, Harry held himself awkwardly to avoid any repercussions. He moaned when Draco nipped his lower lip.

He felt the pressure on the back of his neck as Draco pulled the leash down, trying to force Harry to lower himself. He made a small noise, and Draco stopped. 

“What is it?” Draco asked him, but Harry could tell by the smirk on his face that Draco already knew.

Harry tried to bury his face in Draco’s shirt to hide, but Draco’s fingers curling in the hair at the nape of his neck prevented this. Harry groaned, his eyes shut tightly.

“I don’t want to get you wet,” he mumbled, and embarrassment made his face flush further when Draco laughed. 

“Worried about getting my nice trousers all wet?” Draco teased him, still holding Harry by the hair. “Perhaps worried about what my tailor will say when I go take these in for mending, when she sees the stain?”

Harry didn’t say anything, which was fine, since Draco didn’t seem to expect a response. Pulling him hard by the hair, Draco forced Harry to lower himself a few inches until he was resting on Draco’s thigh. Harry was painfully aware of his wetness soaking into the cloth...the expensive, fitted trousers that Draco fussed over if someone so much as dripped water on them. He felt like his mind was going numb — even more so when he felt himself guided into a gentle rocking motion, encouraging him to rub himself against Draco. He dared neither stop nor disobey, and groaned when he felt the fabric rubbing against his dick. It was rough, and the direct pressure on the head was uncomfortable, so he tilted his pelvis forward a bit, making sure he was grinding and stimulating the body of his dick. Draco pulled him into another hard kiss, and Harry felt a pang of arousal in the base of his stomach when Draco found the pressure points on either side of the nape of Harry’s neck. He pinched hard, and Harry keened and rocked against Draco, rubbing himself against Draco’s increasingly-damp trousers.

“I can’t believe how much you like it when I hurt you,” Draco condescended, and to prove his point, he pinched one of Harry’s nipples until Harry moaned. “Merlin, look how fucking wet you are. You’d do anything I told you.”

Harry fell forward a bit and buried his face in Draco’s shirt. “Please fuck me,” he said, his voice breaking a little.

“Why should I?”

“You’ll feel so good, please, and I’ll do whatever you say.” He slowed until he was no longer rubbing against Draco, his breath coming shakily. “Please, I...I’ve been a good boy.”

Harry felt Draco use the leash to guide him into a kiss, and he warily kissed back, unsure as to what he would be told to do next. Draco slid his other hand to the small of Harry’s back, guiding him forward until he was straddling Draco’s hips. Harry could feel Draco’s cock against the inside of his thigh. He felt dizzy.

“You  _ have  _ been a good boy,” Draco confirmed. “Up.”

Harry lifted himself a little, and he had to bite his tongue to stay silent when he felt Draco push his cock inside him.

It slid into him easily from how wet he was, and it was embarrassing how good it was to not be empty. He whined softly as he sank down around Draco’s cock, and he instantly started to rock his hips gently, savoring the feeling of being filled. 

Draco’s fingers wrapped lightly around his throat, just above the collar, and Harry froze, afraid he’d done something wrong.

“I didn’t say you could move,” Draco said, his voice soft yet firm. “I planned to let you anyway, so I’ll overlook it this once, but next time make sure you ask for permission.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Harry couldn’t decide what to do; it all felt so good. If he went slowly, he got to feel Draco slowly fill him up, which was incredible — but if he went quickly, the motions were more likely to stimulate his A-spot, which he especially loved. He settled for the faster pace, lowering his head and bracing his right hand on Draco’s shoulder for support.

“Look at me, baby.”

Harry groaned, and forced his eyes open and head up. Draco’s hand went to the side of his face, and Harry slowed a bit so as to not dislodge him. 

“Does it feel good?”

Harry nodded. He wasn’t sure he could speak if he wanted to, and was reluctant to try, fearing that all that the only sounds to come out of his mouth if he tried would be moans. 

“Good,” Draco said. “You look so pretty fucking yourself on my cock.”

Harry gasped quietly, and he had to fight to keep his eyes open and on Draco’s. He felt the motion of Draco’s cock against his G-spot, thinking about how ironic it was that he was on top and yet completely powerless. 

“You’re dripping all over my cock,” Draco hissed in his ear, and Harry moaned when Draco leaned in and began sucking a mark under his jaw. “Oh, what, you like that? I’m just marking my territory, baby.”

Harry groaned and dropped his forehead to Draco’s shoulder. He wanted to touch himself so badly, but knew better than to ask. He knew that he couldn’t cum just from getting fucked, no matter the hole — he needed stimulation on his dick — and it was awful to know that Draco might not let him touch himself. Yet it somehow made everything better: to think that Draco only cared about his own pleasure made Harry even more turned on. 

It felt amazing to have to do all the work. Despite Harry preferring to be on the bottom — not to mention  _ bottoming _ — he also liked when Draco would just lie back and lazily watch while Harry desperately rode him. This was of course one of those occasions. Draco’s eyes remained fixed on Harry, but every once in a while he’d casually touch, too: he’d tweak one of Harry’s nipples or knead his ass, just to see Harry’s reaction and play with what belonged to him.

Harry felt his legs getting sore, and he noticed that he was sweating. He hated that he would sweat so much during sex, but he knew that Draco didn’t mind. “I’m getting tired,” he mumbled, and slowed to a stop. His head was still resting on Draco’s shoulder.

“Is there a question in there?”

“C-can I take a break? Or...?” Harry trailed off, unsure.

“Mm, I’m not sure, baby,” Draco murmured, running his hands across Harry’s back. “What’s in it for me?”

“I c-could lie there while you fuck me.”

“But then  _ I’d  _ have to do the work,” Draco said. “Why would I do that when I’ve got you to make me feel good?” The tone of his voice made Harry want to apologize for suggesting something so stupid.

“I...I dunno, sir,” he whispered.

“Exactly,” said Draco smoothly. “It’s a waste of energy for me to fuck you. You’re just a toy anyway, and it’s no use touching that useless little cock of yours. Might as well make yourself useful.”

Harry whimpered softly.

“Stop deluding yourself into thinking that I care if you get to cum or not.” Draco’s voice had turned cold. “Keep going.”

Harry let out a long breath and did as he was ordered. His thighs trembled and ached, and he was lifting himself barely more than an inch off Draco’s cock each time he rose, but he was long past the point when he would argue. Harry sometimes started out mouthy and disobedient, but he seldom stayed that way. On one particular occasion, he had been rude to Pansy while accompanying Draco to lunch with her; Draco often punished Harry with sex, even for unrelated offenses such as that one, so as a result, Harry had later been made to edge himself ten times while Draco watched. The only help he’d be allowed was a phallic dildo. The whole process took over an hour, what with having to stop every little while, and the fact that it was often harder for Harry to orgasm without a vibrator. The first few times he’d been about to cum, Harry had protested when Draco told him to stop touching himself. Draco had done one of those terribly annoying things that Harry loved — the one where he would cock his head slightly, look Harry in the eyes, and say his name warningly in a low voice — and Harry had backed down each time, until, after the fourth time he’d been told to stop, he finally submitted. Usually there was a noticeable moment at which the shift occurred, and this such example was a perfect one. Harry had gone pliant, each breath a moan, and from then on, all he had wanted to do was be allowed to cum. No more fight left in him: each time Draco had told him to stop from that point on, Harry had whimpered and twitched desperately, but taken his hand away. All while Draco watched nonchalantly, sipping an old fashioned. By the time Harry reached ten, he was sweating profusely, shaking, and his eyes were unable to stay focused for more than a few seconds at a time. And when Draco finally allowed Harry his orgasm, it lasted longer and was more powerful than Harry was used to, and, though Harry was normally on the louder side, he hadn’t been able to contain his moans at all. After that, he’d collapsed, and, when thinking back, he could barely remember what happened after. He had vague, blurry memories of Draco gently cleaning him off, getting him a drink, and sweetly petting his hair and whispering soothing words as Harry lay in Draco’s lap. 

Though he wasn’t yet as far gone as he’d been that time, disobeying was still the last thing on Harry’s mind. He was desperate to get fucked, to  _ really _ get fucked — to lie back, helpless, while Draco took what he wanted from him. He wanted to be choked and roughed up, fucked full of cum before being left there, exhausted and still unallowed his own pleasure. 

Harry groaned. “Please, Draco,” he whispered, and he gasped when Draco yanked his head back by his hair. His scalp smarted with the force of it, and he gasped again when Draco’s teeth found his throat.

“So fucking high-maintenance, aren’t you?” Draco growled against his jaw, after having bitten another bruise into his skin. “Merlin, I’ve got to do everything myself.”

And Harry suddenly found himself on his back, his arms pinned above his head, with Draco between his legs. Draco’s cock had slid from him in the process, and he pressed his hips up, searching blindly to be filled again. Harry tried to sit up, but Draco pushed him down, hissed something inaudible, and Harry found his wrists secured above his head by something that felt like a necktie. He whined, opening his eyes for the first time in a while, and let himself adjust to the lighting in the room.

Draco was on top of him, his face above Harry’s, and he was bracing himself with one hand and slowly unbuttoning his shirt with the other. He grinned smugly down at Harry when he saw Harry’s eyes open. “Look how fucking desperate you are,” he said appreciatively, and then, a moment later: “I’m lucky I have you all to myself.”

If Harry had been in a headspace that allowed for grateful smiling, he would have done so. Instead, he found himself making a small noise in the back of his throat and turning his head so he wouldn’t have to look right at Draco.

“Aw, look,” Draco mocked, that patronizing lilt to his voice that always made Harry blush. “He’s embarrassed? No worries, baby, I know you too well to think that you don’t like it.”

Harry said nothing. He loved the idea of Draco knowing him better than he knew himself, even if their sex was always heaping with two-way communication.

“So look at me.”

Harry groaned softly, but he did, shifting his head to look at Draco, who still hovered over him. Draco had finished unbuttoning his shirt, and it now hung attractively off his shoulders, the open front halves hanging down and brushing Harry’s stomach. Draco looked at Harry appraisingly for a second before he spoke again, his eyes flashing silver.

“I’m going to fuck you, and you’re not going to say a word,” Draco said. “Moans are fine,” he added, “since I know you can’t help it.” He smirked. “You know the safeword.”

In spite of himself, Harry nodded.

“Good boy.” 

Harry still felt a thrill every time he heard those words, and he wanted to take a deep breath, sit up a little straighter,  _ show _ Draco how good he could be. But he was tied down, and Draco kept talking.

“I’m going to fuck you,” Draco said quietly and decisively, looking Harry right in the eyes. “I’m going to fuck your wet little cunt and cum inside you, and you’re going to sit there and take my cock because that’s what you’re good for.”

Harry moaned, and he obediently kept his eyes open, even as Draco reached down to guide his cock into Harry. Harry felt the familiar slide of Draco’s cock inside him, moving with ease because of how wet he was, and he moaned again when he felt Draco’s hips against him, loving that Draco was fully inside him. Finally closing his eyes when Draco kissed him roughly, Harry let himself sink into the mattress, submitting completely as Draco’s mouth met his. 

The kiss was intoxicating: Draco dominated it, unsurprisingly, starting slowly before beginning to kiss Harry with more greed and vigor. Harry felt vulnerable — in these moments, his soul always opened wide and let Draco in, and that was how their sex worked so well.

Draco kissed across his cheek and jawline; his lips found Harry’s jugular, and Harry whined and automatically tilted his head back, allowing Draco unrestricted access to the more sensitive areas of his neck. He  _ loved _ neck kisses, hickeys, bites — anything. It made him feel so submissive, knowing that the throat was what animals went for if they wanted to control each other. He liked feeling like prey, or a weak opponent or mate that an alpha was trying to overpower.

He felt Draco’s teeth lightly scrape across his skin, and he gave a brief moan. Draco hadn’t even started to move, and Harry was already basking in feeling full and taken advantage of. He held his breath when he felt Draco mouth up to his ear, and exhaled heavily when Draco’s teeth tugged at his earlobe.

“Your cunt keeps clenching around me,” Draco whispered huskily in his ear, and Harry whined in embarrassment when he realized that it was true. “Your body is  _ begging _ me to fill you up with my cum. But I’m not doing it for you. I’m doing it because I own your holes, and I can use them however I’d like.”

Harry whimpered at everything Draco said, wanting and loving it all. But Draco wasn’t done. 

“Does it ever bother you how needy you get?” Draco patronized, nipping at the spot right behind Harry’s earlobe that Harry loved. “You’d spread your legs for me if I so much as took my shirt off in front of you. I bet,” Draco continued, “that if I didn’t let you cum for a week, you’d be begging me at every moment just to let you rub your pathetic little dick on something.”

Harry was dying. He was sure of it. He wanted Draco to fuck him more than he had ever wanted anything. He felt full, but his cunt was aching, and he’d be okay so long as Draco just  _ moved _ . He wasn’t allowed to talk, and though he was sorely tempted to do so just to get Draco to gag him, he knew that he wouldn’t get fucked if he disobeyed. 

“You’re so gorgeous,” Draco said. “I love when you’re desperate and I get to hear all the pretty little noises you make.”

And  _ finally _ Draco began to fuck him, and it was slow and deep and everything that Harry needed. Draco’s movements were lazy but still domineering, and oh,  _ yes _ , this was what Harry had wanted. In the back of his mind he knew he was being loud, but every time Draco’s cock rubbed against his G-spot, he couldn’t help but make a noise. 

Harry knew he would need his hands or a toy on his dick to cum, and it only bothered him at this moment because he was completely helpless. He realized that he was tied up with one of Draco’s neckties — Harry didn’t own any, Draco insisting that bow ties looked better on him — and he loved the thought that Draco would wear that tie out at some point, and nobody would know that it had been used for this. He also loved that,  _ wow _ , Draco didn’t even need wrist cuffs or actual rope to tie him up, let alone an  _ Incarcerous _ — that’s how easy he was. Sometimes, when they had sex, Harry felt so good just submitting that he didn’t even want to cum that badly; he’d just be content to touch himself or have Draco touch him, without any strong desire to climax. 

This was not one of those times. Harry knew that if he were to be allowed to touch himself, it wouldn’t take very long for him to cum. Unfortunately for him, Draco knew this too, and so he kept Harry tied. Draco also knew how to move so that on every thrust in, Draco’s pubic bone ground against Harry’s dick, which made it better and also unbearable for Harry. 

Harry felt Draco begin to speed up, Draco’s thrusts becoming slightly shallower as he did so, and, had Harry any leverage, he would have been moving his hips to get Draco further inside him. Though he knew he was a pillow prince, this was different: Harry was now just a toy, a thing, all for Draco to use. It didn’t matter what he wanted, and it didn’t matter if he didn’t like what Draco was doing — he had no say in it. He knew that Draco would stop immediately if Harry so much as showed any sign of genuine dislike of their play, and so this knowledge left him free to let go, enjoying and allowing Draco’s control. Even tiny things, like the way he could do nothing about how Draco’s unbuttoned shirt tickled his chest, exacerbated those feelings: that of being owned, and that in which Draco’s feelings were the only ones that mattered.

“Open your eyes.”

Harry whimpered, and he felt so overwhelmed that he wasn’t sure he could look at Draco. He still made a little sound each time Draco thrust into him, and the embarrassment from that made him want to open his eyes even less.

“Harry.”

Harry groaned and shook his head, biting the inside of his cheek to stay as quiet as he could. He felt Draco slowing his thrusts, and wanted to cry out to beg him not to.

“ _ Harry _ . Open. your. eyes.”

Whining, Harry forced his eyes open, his breath coming shakily. He saw Draco looking down at him, sternness and authority radiating off him. 

“I shouldn’t have to tell you three times,” Draco growled in his ear, and Harry could do nothing but blink helplessly up at him as one of Draco’s hands made its way to his throat. “I shouldn’t even have to tell you more than once. I don’t care if you don’t want to do whatever it is I tell you. You’re nothing but a stupid fucktoy, so stop acting like you’re something more.”

He inhaled sharply when he felt Draco’s fingers wrapping around his neck, gently choking him, and Harry moaned when Draco suddenly began to fuck him with deep, hard thrusts. He knew better than to close his eyes, but he had trouble keeping them open and focused. Draco was his whole world — with him, around him, atop him,  _ inside  _ him — and Harry wanted it to stay like that.

He felt the pleasant dizziness of being choked, and it was so easy to lose himself in the man above him. The silver eyes stared through him, and even if Harry wanted to, he couldn’t look away. Being Draco’s was all he was. 

When Draco let go of his throat, ten seconds later, Harry wished that he hadn’t; but they both knew the dangers of being careless. He was still gazing up at Draco, but he was barely seeing anything he was looking at. One of Draco’s thrusts had him seeing stars, and, without thinking, Harry squeezed his eyes shut. 

He barely even knew that he had broken a rule when Draco slapped him hard across the face. It stung like mad, and Harry was sure that if he had been touching himself when Draco hit him, he would have cum instantly. His mind felt numb, and he blearily opened his eyes, whimpering. 

“Good,” Draco said coldly. “You’re finally learning.” He hit Harry again. 

Harry was dimly aware that his mouth was hanging open, and that the sounds that came from his mouth were just a jumble of moans, all in reaction to what Draco was doing to him. 

“Don’t even try to play upset,” Draco said, his breathing getting heavier. “You’re loving every fucking second of this. You love that you’re tied up with my favorite necktie, you love that I’m using your cunt, you love when I hit you. You love that I’ve still got my shirt around my shoulders while you’ve been naked this whole time.” 

All Harry could do was moan and nod, and he gasped shakily when Draco began kissing his neck again. He felt Draco’s breath coming quickly, hot against his skin, and he knew that Draco was getting close.

“You feel so fucking good,” Draco said, groaning quietly. “You want me to cum in you, baby? Fill you up ‘til it drips out of you?”

Harry wanted it so badly. He no longer cared whether he was allowed to talk — “Please,” he gasped, “please, fuck—”

He cut himself off with a moan when Draco bit down on his neck, hips stuttering, and Harry whined as Draco came inside him. He couldn’t feel it, despite wishing he could, but Harry loved this moment nonetheless: the sharp pain as Draco’s teeth dug into his skin; the way Draco, for a brief moment, lost himself in Harry’s body; and that blissed-out feeling from knowing that he had pleased Draco. Harry loved all of it. He realized that he was whimpering almost inaudibly, and he let himself close his eyes.

Draco stayed still for a few moments, gathering himself and coming down from his orgasm. Harry felt Draco regain himself: Draco, still inside Harry, nuzzled the mark his teeth had made on Harry’s neck, and gently kissed his way to Harry’s mouth.

Harry normally would have loved this part — there was a special kind of intimacy that you could never get anywhere else — but he felt so lust-driven that these effects were somewhat dulled. He wanted to touch Draco, to wrap his arms around Draco’s shoulders and  _ really  _ kiss him, but the tie around his wrists still prevented it. Draco’s tongue slipped into his mouth and Harry made a quiet sound in the back of his throat, trying and failing to ignore the aching feeling inside him from not being allowed to cum. 

They kissed quietly and gently for a moment, but as Draco’s afterglow began to fade, he began to take charge again: nipping Harry’s lip, kissing him harder, and smirking at him when they broke apart. Harry was breathing heavily, and he looked up at Draco, trying to prevent his desperation from showing on his face. Their lips were almost touching.

“You’re so pretty,” Draco whispered, and Harry whined softly and blinked up at him.

“Thank you,” he mumbled. 

Draco grinned down at him, and the look in his eyes made Harry nervous. “Do you know what I’m going to do next?”

_ I hope you’re going to let me cum, _ he thought. “No, sir,” he said aloud. He felt the bite mark on his neck smarting, and relished it.

“I’m going to watch as you finger yourself with my cum.”

Harry let out a hard breath and looked away, and he tugged at the tie binding him when he felt Draco begin to pull out — he wanted to grab Draco and pull him closer, preventing him from moving because it felt so  _ good _ to be filled. But his struggles just served to amuse, apparently, because Draco smirked when he saw Harry squirming, and pulled out anyway. Harry couldn’t keep in his whimper; he hated this part. He felt his cunt clenching around nothing, trying to close around the cock that was no longer there. He let out an embarrassingly plaintive sound.

He slammed his eyes shut when Draco grabbed his calf, forcing Harry’s legs further apart. He adored being on display, even if he didn’t like to admit it to himself. It was so humiliating — worse when his cunt was soaked, like this — and Harry craved it.

Draco hummed and Harry knew that he was taking in the sight of Harry’s cunt, dripping with his own wetness and Draco’s cum, which had just begun to leak out of him. 

Harry felt Draco touch the outside of his cunt then wipe the wetness on Harry’s inner thigh. “Just as you should be,” Draco said smoothly, and he spelled the tie away from Harry’s wrists. Harry exhaled hard, bringing his hands down automatically to try to shield some part of himself from exposure. Draco just laughed and let go of him, before sitting back, propping himself up on one hand, and letting his eyes rake over Harry’s body. “Well?”

Harry sat up nervously, avoiding Draco’s eyes and saying nothing. He kept his legs spread, and slowly reached between his thighs, his head leaning back to rest against the pillows as he began to touch his dick. He let his eyes fall closed.

“I said fingering. Not whatever the hell you’re doing.”

Harry whined, but he moved his hand away from his dick obediently, so humiliated and so turned on.  _ Whatever the hell I’m doing. _ He was hard, and he thought about how difficult it was to tell the difference from when he  _ wasn’t _ hard, and that turned him on even more. He forced himself to listen to Draco, and moved his hand lower, pressing two fingers into himself. 

It wasn’t nearly as good as Draco’s cock, but still far better than nothing, and Harry began to relax as much as he was able, given that Draco was watching him. Harry felt how wet his cunt was, and how messy with Draco’s cum, and his breath shook as he began to finger himself. The angle was poor, and he could barely reach his G-spot, but it felt good nonetheless. He wanted to buck his hips, fuck himself deeper with his fingers, but he held back for fear of moving without permission.

He let himself sink against the bed, moaning quietly. He wasn’t sure what to do with his other hand; he was using his wand arm to touch himself, and he awkwardly rested his left hand on his chest. His palm rubbed slightly against his dick as he curled his fingers in his cunt, and he hoped Draco wouldn’t scold him for it: that was the best position for his hand, and they both knew that he wouldn’t be able to cum like that anyway...but if Draco noticed, however, he didn’t say, so Harry was free to stay like that, with the heel of his palm gently pressing against the shaft of his dick.

While fingering himself, Harry thought about his body, and how happy with it he was. He’d been on hormones for a year and a half when he’d gotten his chest surgery, and though he’d had very little bottom dysphoria before that point, what was left vanished. He had considered external lower surgeries, but decided that he liked what he had, mostly since sensation was variable after surgery. On occasion, he would wish for a larger penis, but then Draco would suck him off and say how cute his dick was, and Harry would be content for a while. 

He realized that he was smiling a little only when Draco said, “What is it?”

Harry blinked his eyes open to look at Draco, and his fingers slowed to a stop. “I like my body,” he murmured happily. 

Draco’s expression softened. “I’m so glad,” he said quietly.

“I love you.”

“I love you too,” Draco said. “But I didn’t say you could stop, did I?”

Harry shook his head, and he took a deep breath and began to finger himself again. His mind wandered back to their play, and he realized to his embarrassment that he had been moving his hips in rhythm with his fingers in his cunt. He knew that by now, Draco’s cum was dripping out of him, and that it was definitely getting on the duvet — he hated making a mess, even though it would take a split second to spell away. He did love, though, when Draco made him lick it up. The abundant wetness on his fingers reminded him of earlier, and he opened his eyes. 

Draco, of course, noticed right away where he was looking. “What, Harry?”

“Your trousers,” he mumbled, glancing furtively at the dark spot on them. 

“What about them?”

“They’re still wet.”

“Well, I was going to do a quick  _ Tergeo _ ,” Draco said, folding his arms with a devious grin, “but I think I’ll wear these to lunch with Luna tomorrow.”

Harry sat up unthinkingly and took his hand away from his cunt. “What?” he said quietly. 

“You heard me.”

“No, fuck, she’ll know—”

“Doesn’t matter if she does, though, does it?” Draco said, and he moved forward and pushed Harry down again, crawling on top of him. “Because  _ you _ will know, and I like watching you get embarrassed.”

Harry closed his eyes and turned away, but Draco grabbed his jaw and forced his head back to look at him.

“And you like being embarrassed.”

Harry said nothing.

“Say it.”

Harry whined, but he didn’t struggle against the grip on his jaw.

“I like being embarrassed,” he whispered.

Draco’s hand moved up to his hair, pulling his head back, and Harry gasped.

“Why?”

Harry groaned, keeping his eyes shut, and he felt Draco’s lips on his cheek. 

“Why, Harry?”

“It puts me in my place,” he said quietly. 

Draco’s teeth scraped his jaw. “Which is?”

Harry hissed through his teeth when Draco nipped at a preexisting mark on his neck. “ _ Yours _ ,” he said. 

Draco hummed and let go of Harry’s hair, and he began slowly kissing down Harry’s chest. “ _ Mine _ ,” he rumbled. 

Harry moaned and bucked his hips as Draco’s mouth traveled lower. Draco pressed a palm against Harry’s pubic bone and pushed him back against the bed. 

“I’m going to suck your pathetic little cock,” Draco said. “And you’re going to sit still because I don’t need you trying to fuck my face like a desperate whore.”

Harry knew he wouldn’t be able to stay still, and he suspected Draco knew it too, given how long they had been having sex.  _ Why suck me off if I can’t move to make it better?  _ Harry thought, but he thought too that he already knew the answer:

Draco liked to go down on Harry — he was quite transparent about it, too. And Harry realized that this time, Draco wasn’t doing it for  _ Harry _ , he was doing it for  _ Draco _ . Harry already knew that Draco got off by getting  _ him _ off, and so Draco genuinely liked to eat him out. Harry supposed it was for similar reasons to why he liked sucking Draco off, though from a dominant’s perspective...Draco liked Harry’s reactions — his little motions and noises — and knowing that  _ he _ was the one making Harry feel that way, rather than anyone else. 

Harry almost went out of his mind when he felt Draco’s lips wrap around his dick, and he automatically lifted his hips to try to grind against Draco’s mouth. Draco roughly grabbed his hips and held him against the bed, and slowly began to suck him. 

Every time Draco sucked him off, it felt like the first time. Draco’s mouth was warm and his tongue was wet and it felt  _ so good _ , always unlike anything Harry tried to compare it to. And  _ Merlin _ , there was another thing that Draco did that Harry adored, where he would flick his tongue over Harry’s dick lightly, teasing him and making him melt. 

He wanted to be able to move, it being better when he was allowed to, but he still relished being held down. “Fuck,” he gasped, “please….” He brought his hands down, wanting to tangle his fingers in Draco’s hair; he felt Draco growl against him, and found his hands suddenly pinned by his head by invisible ropes. He whined as Draco licked up his cunt, his hips straining against Draco’s hold. He hated how empty he felt, but Draco’s mouth made up for it.

“Please,” he said again.

Draco’s teeth grazed Harry’s dick. “Shut up,” he said, an indiscernible emotion in his voice, and yet the way he said it made Harry want to follow him to the end of the world.

Harry shuddered and did as he was told, biting the inside of his cheek to keep himself from begging. It messed with his mind to be tied up and eaten out: he normally thought it  _ his _ place — the submissive’s place — to give pleasure, and now that he was getting sucked off while still being firmly dominated, he hardly knew what to do. He was glad that his hands were tied, thinking he wouldn’t be able to keep himself from touching Draco. 

Draco’s tongue moved lower, tracing Harry’s crura lightly. His actions were sure, confident, languid — they both knew that Harry would do anything in that moment, no matter what Draco told Harry he wanted — but greedy at the same time. Harry moaned when he felt Draco’s tongue work its way into him, and Draco’s nails scratched his hip in reprimand when Harry tried to buck against him. Hard enough to leave a mark.

He was reminded of a time they went to Ron and Hermione’s for a picnic — of course Draco had accompanied him — and they’d played a few games of two-on-two Quidditch. Harry had taken his shirt off to mop the sweat from his brow, forgetting that he had a bruise on his ribs from Draco bending him over the kitchen island the previous night; Hermione had seen it and nearly thrown a fit about  _ what are healing spells even for if you won’t use them _ . Harry’d only escaped by blushingly coming up with the excuse that he’d gotten into a scuffle at work a few days prior and simply forgotten about the bruise — Draco had smirked at Harry from behind Hermione’s back, and they both knew that she didn’t believe him, but she seemed placated and moved on. 

Harry had half the mind to keep struggling against Draco, and press his hips up to just have more of his  _ tongue _ , because he  _ wanted  _ more marks on him, more signs that he belonged to Draco. But he knew that if he kept acting up, he’d probably be in chastity for up to a few days, which he always hated. And so he tried to sit still and let himself be content with doing so. He was barely aware of anything other than Draco’s hands on him and Draco’s tongue inside him — not to mention the ache in his cunt from wanting to cum so badly. 

He started when he felt the cool, tingling feeling of Draco’s cleaning spell in his other hole, and his mind brought up the time that Ron had replaced their lube with toothpaste as revenge for having walked in on them. 

This thought disappeared almost immediately, however, as Draco’s tongue moved lower and swiped over his asshole. Harry twitched and made a noise in his throat, and he quickly discovered that it was even harder to sit still while he was getting rimmed. Draco’s tongue teased his perineum, tracing tiny circles over his hole, and Harry groaned. 

“Merlin, Draco—”

He whined when he felt the tongue move away from his ass; the sound was swallowed up when Draco leaned up and kissed him heavily. Draco’s chin was wet, and Harry could taste Draco’s cum and his own wetness on Draco’s mouth. He realized that Draco was hard again, and he made another noise as Draco broke the kiss.

“Please, Draco, I need—”

“I decide what you need,” Draco interrupted, and Harry fell silent under his quelling stare. Draco released the spell on Harry’s wrists and flicked his hip. “Turn over.”

Harry shuddered, but did as he was told, rolling onto his stomach.

“Hands and knees.”

Harry obeyed. He thought he knew what was coming, but didn’t say so in case he was wrong, not wanting to give Draco further reason to humiliate him. Draco pulled his leash, gently forcing Harry to arch his back, and Harry felt Draco’s cock brush his inner thigh. He wanted to let his head fall so he didn’t have to think about how utterly embarrassing this was, but the taut leash held him in place, with his head up.

Draco held his cock and rubbed it slowly against Harry’s cunt, and spanked Harry hard when he tried to move back against it. 

“Fuck—!”

“Be quiet,” Draco said apathetically. “If you think  _ that’s  _ unpleasant then you’re in for a rough next few minutes.” He pushed into Harry’s cunt, still holding the leash firmly, and moved slowly in and out a few times.

Harry made a displeased noise when Draco pulled out a moment later, even though he’d known it was coming. Draco, on the other hand, hummed appraisingly. 

“I knew we wouldn’t need lube,” he said, and Harry only registered what Draco had meant when he felt the head of Draco’s cock against his asshole, slowly pushing inside him. He blushed.

“Fuck,” he mumbled, and he badly wanted to drop his head to the bed and bite down on the pillowcase, but Draco pulled the leash harder, forcing his gaze up. “Draco,” he whined. 

Draco reached forward, around Harry’s head, and forced two fingers into his mouth, hooking into his cheek and pulling his head back. “I thought I told you to be quiet,” he said coldly, and Harry moaned around Draco’s fingers but he stopped struggling, even as Draco pressed farther into him. 

Harry loved when Draco took his ass without prep, even though it  _ hurt _ . He felt Draco’s cock stretching out his hole, and tried to relax. Normally, Draco would let him squirm, since he liked watching Harry try to get used to him, but this time, Draco was firm. He shoved another finger in Harry’s mouth, prodding his tongue, and Harry groaned, fighting to keep from biting Draco as he felt himself get filled more. Harry didn’t notice he was holding his breath until Draco spanked him, and his exhale came out as another groan. When he felt Draco’s hips against him, he relaxed a bit, but Draco gave him no time to adjust before setting a pace, briskly fucking into him. 

_ Merlin _ , it hurt. Harry loved it. Lack of lubrication wasn’t the problem — Draco was right, his cock had gotten plenty wet from Harry’s cunt — but each time Draco thrust into him, the feeling of being filled without preparation burned through him and he felt as though he’d never be rid of it. He couldn’t grit his teeth as he might have done, not with Draco’s fingers stuffed in his mouth; nor was squirming to adjust an option, with the taut leash forcing him to stay still, his back arched. And so Harry took it, just like Draco knew he would: groaning, panting, cunt dripping. He  _ tried  _ to relax to make it hurt less, he did, but because it hurt, he naturally  _ wasn’t  _ relaxed — it was a vicious cycle, and he knew that Draco knew and abused this to his desire. 

Harry always got ridiculously wet from anything done to his ass. Draco loved to tease him; how much wetter he got when Draco fucked his ass, how his wetness would drip onto the bed — it was mortifying, and even more so when Harry was made to lick it up. 

The pain was closer to bearable now, though he was still dying to be able to take things at his own pace. Draco continued to fuck him steadily, and Harry was held in place, denied control over anything. He couldn’t speak, and with Draco’s fingers in his mouth, he couldn’t focus enough to swallow, so he knew that his face was getting even messier as spit wet his chin. He didn’t know what to do with his tongue.

He heard the sound of Draco spanking him again before he felt it — and then it stung, and then it  _ burned _ , and Harry could do no more than gasp and groan and take it. Normally he would have yelled into a pillow or cast a cooling charm on his skin to take the edge off, but neither of those options presented themselves as available at this time. He felt something drip down his thigh from his cunt, and shuddered when he remembered that it was just as likely to be Draco’s cum as his own wetness. Harry started to savor the ache of Draco’s cock forcing its way into him, and he whined.

“Dumb little slut,” Draco hissed, fucking him harder, and he took his fingers from Harry’s mouth, smeared the saliva onto his cheek, and scratched his nails roughly through Harry’s hair. “You look so good with your ass stretched around my cock. Touch your stupid little dick for me.” And finally Harry felt Draco let lax the leash, and he fell forward. 

“Fuck,” he moaned. “ _ Thank you. _ ”

Dropping his upper body to the bed and resting his head on his left forearm, he reached with his wand hand between his legs. His fingers met his dick, which was as hard as it could get and had become slippery with the fluids dripping from his cunt. He knew that his cunt was rhythmically clenching around nothingness — he could  _ feel _ it — but as soon as he put pressure on his dick, his whole cunt and ass both tightened. He wanted Draco to let him use a vibrator (under the argument that Draco felt better when Harry’s holes got tighter, of course), but he was already so ready to cum that he thought it would be a waste of time to grab one. And even though this wasn’t what he was used to — more wetness made it harder for him to find the right pressure while touching himself — it worked out just fine and soon enough he was groaning through each exhale.

Every one of Draco’s thrusts into his ass now felt only a  _ little  _ uncomfortable, but he still relished the intense submission he got from being used painfully. His desperation overrode everything else.

His dick was so wet that there’d never be any way to find the exact pressure and placement he liked, and he discovered that the only way he’d be able to get close enough to cumming was to press against his dick with all four fingers and just  _ rub _ as quickly as he could. Completely different from his normal methods, but Harry was in no right mind to care about that.

He felt the sparks of orgasm starting to rise deep in his cunt, then in the body of his dick, and he felt himself shaking as his fingers desperately slipped over it. 

“ _ Fuck _ —”

“What is it, Harry?” Draco asked, his breath coming hard from exertion and his voice a growl. “You gonna cum with my cock buried in your ass?”

“ _ Please— _ ”

Harry felt Draco’s fingertips dig into his hips, and he blearily heard Draco’s voice through the haze of his desperation: “You’ll have to tell me what you’re asking, Harry.”

“Fuck, I- I—”

“What?”

“ _ Please _ , I need to cum, sir, please—!”

The moments between Harry’s ask and Draco’s answer were always agony. There were two ways it could go. Draco either would grant him permission, the subsequent orgasm leaving Harry’s thighs shaking; or Harry would be refused. And if he was refused, Harry would have to choose between the  _ awful _ feeling of slowing his fingers on his dick, his orgasm denied, or making himself cum anyway and having to endure whatever unpleasant punishment Draco deemed appropriate. 

“Go ahead.”

And the world disappeared, and though Harry didn’t have control over his body, he was still frantically rubbing his dick. But…. Draco was gone, so who was pulling his hair? Harry couldn’t speak, so why were his vocal cords vibrating so much? And he was in space, floating, so what downy surface broke his fall when he went limp?

_ Draco pulled his hair, Harry yelled, the bed caught him. _

Harry’s arm was twisted beneath him, his fingers between his legs. He felt a gentle weight atop him, a gentle pair of lips on the back of his neck, and a gentle cock inside him.

“You did so well, baby.”

He felt fuzzy, like he was floating. He felt good. He stayed limp as the man behind him maneuvered them slowly onto their sides, leaving Harry as the little spoon. The pillow was nice beneath his cheek.

Draco’s lips brushed his ear. “You mind if I keep going, sweetie? Won’t take long.” 

Harry could almost  _ hear  _ that Draco was smirking, knowing that Harry wouldn’t say no. He heard himself whimpering a  _ yes _ , and Draco wrapped an arm firmly around Harry’s torso, mouthed at his neck above the collar, and began to thrust into him with quick, shallow motions. Harry made no move to touch himself — he was too worn out and sensitive from having just cum — but it still was good to be fucked. 

He felt Draco’s chest against his back, sticky from their sweat. Each time Draco thrust into him, his breath caught and he felt pleasure spark through him. And time felt foggy, but he knew that it was only about a minute before he was whining as Draco came in him. 

Draco continued fucking Harry while he came, his soft grunts in Harry’s ear. Both of them were breathing hard, and Draco nipped gently at Harry’s shoulder as his orgasm ended.

“You’re perfect,” he said to Harry, fingertips caressing and tickling his chest. 

Harry was exhausted, but he smiled and hummed and thanked Draco. He felt arousal already creeping into his veins again. 

“I love fucking you,” Draco murmured quietly, kissing Harry’s neck. “Always feels so good. You liked having both your little holes stuffed with my cum, hm?”

Harry whined again, but he nodded and pressed back against Draco, who chuckled sleepily and moved his hand lower, cupping Harry’s small dick and sliding two fingers easily into his cunt. He laughed again when Harry moaned and ground against Draco’s palm. 

“What a good boy,” Draco praised him. And Harry revelled in his touch no longer than five seconds more before Draco moved his hand back and slipped his soaked fingers into Harry’s mouth. Harry groaned and licked them clean, and when he was done, Draco took them from his mouth; he braced that hand on Harry’s hip, slowly pulling out of him.

The movement of Draco pulling out felt good in and of itself, but Harry despised being empty, and he was mortified to feel Draco’s cum begin to drip from his ass. He groaned again, and slid a hand between his legs to rub his dick, but Draco pulled Harry’s wrist away and spoke in his ear:

“No, it’s okay, baby, you don’t need to touch yourself.”

“But—”

“It’s okay, you did such a good job. Just stay like that, be good, there you go.”

Harry  _ wanted _ to touch himself, but he still felt like he was floating, and Draco’s words were what grounded him. And so he contented himself with a disappointed whimper and nothing more, letting Draco guide his hand away. 

“Such a good boy, you took it so well.”

Harry felt Draco unclip the leash and spell it aside before rolling him onto his back. Draco climbed on top of him, cupped his face, and kissed him. 

“I love you,” Draco said, and he reached one hand up to run his fingers through Harry’s hair. 

And Harry smiled. “Thank you,” he mumbled, and he meant it. His eyes wouldn’t seem to open. “Love you.”

Draco stroked his hair and kissed him softly, before spelling the two of them clean. He summoned a cloth, wet it, and wiped Harry’s face gently.

The last thing Harry remembered from before he fell asleep was the realization that he was still wearing the collar.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, I hope you liked it!
> 
> Comments and kudos would be so appreciated if you enjoyed. Stay safe! (and sane and consensual) I love all of you!


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